Hysteria
by Transformersfan123
Summary: And Five began to laugh. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he sounded as crazy as Six did, but he had no power over it. He laughed so hard that his sides started hurting. And he couldn't stop. His laughter grew more and more hysterical as his mind began to scream at him that he had to stop or his body would overheat. He wasn't getting enough air! But on he laughed.


This is a story that I didn't plan. I've been struggling with my bipolar disorder recently, and I have had several laughing fits as described in the following story. When I wanted to write a new Nine story, this wasn't what I thought it would be, but it touches me in a way a lot of other stories don't. I hope you enjoy to the best of your ability as you see Five have a mental breakdown after severe depression. If you don't enjoy, I hope it at least helps.

* * *

Five met him one day while he was out. The encounter was brief, as the new Stitchpunk was very shy, hiding his face in his cloak while hunched over like the twins. Five had tried to coax him out, but was scared away by an angry Cat Beast. He watched from a distance as Nine, for that was the only number he could be, snuck out and stroked the machine with a tender hand.

The one-eyed Stitchpunk wasn't sure why he withheld the information when One asked for the customary day's report, but Five lied and said nothing new had happened. He mulled over the lie in his mind while working on a project with a needle and fire. He hated lying, so why had he done it? He didn't figure it out before he went to bed.

He dreamed of riding the Cat Beast that night, feeling rebellious and wild and freer than he'd ever felt before in his life. Curses drifted easily from his lips, and there was no One or Two to discipline him for his salty language. Instead, he saw a new face, smiling and cuddling him, sharing laughter with him. The new brazenness prompted him to wrestle the male to the ground, playfully teasing him.

Five woke with a start to realize his soul was aching for attention. His boldness was gone, a byproduct of a dream that he knew would never be realized, and shyness refused to let him go and wake somebody for soul bonding, so he simply got up and tinkered until he felt he could sleep again.

The next time he saw the elusive creature, he saw the same handsome face that had been in a few dreams. The Stitchpunk was exploring a pile of ruins, and Five looked around before sidling over. He was planning a grand speech, starting with how handsome the creature was, when he tripped and sprawled out onto the ground. He was humiliated as those intense optics landed on him.

"Um, hi," he muttered, quickly sitting up and looking away.

Silence greeted him, and the Stitchpunk looked painfully shy, flipping his hood up and hugging himself. They were still for a minute then Five shifted, standing up.

A growl sounded out, and the older male gasped and stumbled away, looking frightened as the Cat Beast stalked up, glaring hotly at him. The younger being held out his hands and shook his head, and the machine stopped. Five was fascinated and his curiosity bubbled up.

"How are you doing that?"

The head tilted.

"With the Cat Beast," Five clarified.

He got a shrug in response, and the embarrassed silence crept up on them again. Neither of them had the courage to move until Two's voice sounded out.

"Five?"

Nine panicked and turned to run away, the machine following swiftly. Two found Five ten minutes later thinking over the encounter while picking up material to make a crossbow bolt.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Two asked distractedly.

"I didn't hear you," Five lied, shocked at his own audacity.

"Oh, well, get your head out of your dreams. We _are_ out in the Emptiness, and it's dangerous to daydream."

Five felt his soul sink at the order, but he smiled and nodded. "Yes, Two. I'm sorry."

He went home that night, contemplating how nice it was to be focused on the way Nine had focused on him. Sure, they hadn't really spoken. But to have somebody's full attention? Oh, it was heavenly. He sat on his bed, listening to Two talking softly to One as they soul bonded, his own fingers dancing across his burlap as he tried to fight the desire to bring out his soul. Without a soul connect, he would get no relief and would only make things worse. But he imagined. What he imagined surprised him. It wasn't soul bonding, as it was in his dreams, it was _connecting_.

In his mind's eye, he was talking with that shy soul to find out what made him tick, why he was so afraid of him and the other Stitchpunks while he was comfortable at commanding the machines around. And sharing his own ideas, his own _self_ with the other. It was more pleasing to think of talking then actually relieving his physical need to soul bond. Five found his fingers working around his glowing green chest, arching as his soul ached acutely for love.

He realized as his soul began crying that he didn't feel loved at all in his life. One didn't love anybody but himself. Two was distracted with his own brilliant ideas, and had slowly paid less attention to him and his inventions. Three and Four wanted nobody but Seven and nothing but knowledge. Six was lost in his visions, Seven lost in her adventures, and Eight lost in his magnet.

Five's soul wanted to scream for attention, but he shoved the need down, letting the green soul pulse in agony. Five's hands dashed over his soul, trying to comfort himself by pretending it was somebody else's hands, somebody else's kisses raining over the agitated surface. He felt so lonely that night, lonelier than he'd ever felt, but for a single moment he lost himself in the thought that the strange Stitchpunk might love him. It was followed by the most bitter night of his life.

After another week, Five found him again. This time he watched him. He had an idea, and he pulled his crossbow and walked over. Nine tried to hide in plain sight again, but Five smiled and shot out a bolt. The Stitchpunk looked interested as Five fired another one, then another. When the one-eyed creature was out, the younger one ran to fetch his bolts. He shyly smiled and gestured at the crossbow.

"Would you like to try?" Five asked.

Nine nodded eagerly, so the elder helped him learn how to hold it, guiding the hands and body into the right position.

"That's good. Now, breathe. Look where you want to fire…" Five whispered softly, taking a small step back.

Nine's aim wasn't the best, but he looked exuberant about imbedding the bolt into the soft dirt. He beamed proudly, and Five pet him.

"Good job! Very good! Would you like to try again?"

Though Five had only gone out to get Two materials, he spent the majority of the day having fun with Nine. He finally pulled himself away.

"Sorry, but I have to get home."

Nine pouted, but nodded, gesturing up at the sky.

"Right. Well, it was nice meeting you. I'll see you later?"

Another nod then they went their separate ways. Five was giddy. He had just spent all day teaching another Stitchpunk about his crossbow. Though Nine hadn't said a word—and in fact, Five was fairly sure that he couldn't speak out loud—it had been a bonding day, a day where he connected on a deep level that didn't actually involve their souls being physically together. Five walked into Sanctuary and put away his things.

"Two? I'm sorry, I got distracted and didn't get your materials," he said, walking into their room. "But you'll never believe it! There's another…"

Two was happily working away, the materials Five was supposed to retrieve spread out on Two's workbench. He was confused and slightly hurt.

"Where did all this come from?"

"Seven picked them up."

"But that was my job!"

"You just said that you didn't get them," Two replied, though there was no anger there.

"What if I had?"

"Then there would be two of everything, and we could use the extra parts for different projects."

Five's soul ached deeper as pain began to leak out of him. Two turned at the strained feeling he got through the soul bond.

"Five? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Five lied numbly. "I'm just tired. I'm going to bed."

"Very well. Have a nice rest."

Five slowly sat on the bed before taking out his soul. It was blue, with tinges of black creeping up. Sadness and depression. The one-eyed Stitchpunk carefully put his soul back. It wouldn't do to worry anybody. He was supposed to be the good one, the one that always behaved, always took everything in stride, always smiled. He was never the one that was depressed, never the one that hurt and cried, never the one that drew attention to himself.

Laying down, Five realized for the first time how invisible he was. He wasn't the brilliant leader like One. His inventions were rarely used, and Two had just proved that he wasn't needed to fetch materials for new projects. Three and Four knew everything, so his own measly knowledge was no good. Six saw the future disasters and prevented them when they were bad enough (though One rarely ever let him talk about the others). Seven was the brave adventurer who got things from the Emptiness, and Eight was the protective muscle that they all saw as comforting, even if he did bully a bit.

 _'What am I?'_ Five asked himself as his soul blackened further. _'No,_ who _am I? Am I really a nobody? Do they really not need me? Do they even want me?_ A chill swept through him at the next thought, and the blackness overtook everything. _Would they even notice if I didn't come back one day?_

He returned his soul inside of him, turning over to stare blankly at the wall. If he were human, he knew that his cheeks would be stained with tears. The tears would drip into the emptiness that was him, filling it with something tangible. He spent the night miserable, too afraid to seek comfort. It didn't help his state of mind to think that he'd be rejected because he had to be the good one, the one with no problems. Depression was Six's thing, and sometimes Two's. He had to be good. He had to be perfect.

Five didn't go out for about a month after that, but he didn't do much of anything else either. Nobody seemed to notice that he didn't work on projects, that he didn't volunteer to retrieve things, that he didn't come out of his room, that his soul was withering away inside of him. Each night, the invisible tears would pour into the emptiness in his soul, but it never filled. The tears only carved a deeper cavern in which his mind's screams to be noticed would echo all the more.

The blankness disappeared one day only to be replaced by anger. He decided to lash out at the first one to hurt him again, and he didn't give a damn who it was. He would be noticed, come heaven or high water, even if it was to be in trouble. There was a meeting on one bright morning, and, as it turned out, One was irritable that day, and he accidentally bumped into Five.

"Watch it," One growled.

"Fuck off," Five replied.

His leader froze several steps away, turning slowly to look at him. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must not have spoken clearly," Five said sweetly. "I said you should fuck off."

The room was eerily silent as everybody stared at him. The only sound was the slow drip of ink off of Six's fingers, which were frozen above his newest drawing. Two moved first.

"Five?" he asked gently. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

Five laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Oh, nothing, of course. Why would good little me be anything to worry about? I've only been contemplating how to kill myself, since all of you clearly don't want me around."

More silence before One approached. The pale Stitchpunk placed a hand on Five's chest.

"When's the last time you soul bonded?"

"Oh, it's been awhile," Five replied, shrugging off the hand. "Not that any of you have noticed, of course. You never notice me. Why would you? I'm the good little boy, never needs a thing from any of you. And you don't need anything from me! I might as well not be here!"

And Five began to laugh. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he sounded as crazy as Six did, but he had no power over it. He laughed so hard that his sides started hurting. And he couldn't stop. His laughter grew more and more hysterical as his mind began to scream at him that he had to stop or his body would overheat. He wasn't getting enough air! But on he laughed, and the frightened faces around him only fueled his hysteria.

He collapsed, gripping his aching midsection as the laughs turned to screams, and he began clawing at himself, not caring if his burlap tore.

"Eight!" somebody screamed. "Hold him down!"

Strong hands grabbed him, forcing him to still. Five screamed all the louder because of it as he fought the grasp. He kicked and writhed, shrieking obscenities as loudly as he could. His feverish mind blocked out everything as he was swamped with crippling anger and depression, and all he could think of was relieving the pain.

The next thing he realized was that he was sore. His body ached horribly, but his mind was buzzing like he was magnetized. He sat up slowly, bumping his head on…Oh, he was magnetized, he thought sluggishly. But it wasn't Eight's magnet. It was a much stronger one that Two hid somewhere in Sanctuary. Besides the doctor, only One knew where it was hidden, though they had all gone on playful, and sometimes not-so-playful, hunts to find it. They never had. So why was it out?

"Five?" a hesitant voice asked.

Said Stitchpunk looked up to see Two watching him worriedly. The older Stitchpunk took pains to move slowly toward him. Five stared, his mind not all there, and what was there felt…floaty, otherworldly. It wasn't normal, but Five was so out of it that he couldn't even wonder at it.

"Two? Why's the magnet out?" he slurred.

"For you, of course," Two said gently, helping him to lay down again. "Now hush. You need rest."

"Why?"

"Shh, just rest. Relax. I love you, Five. That's it, relax. Sleep."

Five couldn't fight the exhaustion, and the magnetization helped greatly to ease him back to sleep. The next time he woke up, the magnet was on the other side of the room, but still not put away. Two was sleeping with his head on his arms at his desk. Five could think much more clearly, and he lay there and tried to piece together what had happened. He had never done something like that before, not even when he'd lost his eye. It made his mind hurt to think that he'd just gone through a laughing fit like that and not even been able to stop on his own will.

"How are you feeling?"

Five turned his head to see One standing in the doorway, his demeanor soft and hesitant, which was strange. The younger Stitchpunk shrugged, looking away. One sighed as he moved to seat himself on the bed.

"Talk to me."

"I don't know how I feel," Five responded weakly. "Besides tired."

"Tired how?"

"Tired all over. I'm sore, and I just want to sleep forever."

"Forever's a long, long time," One replied.

"Yeah. I know."

One settled his staff against the wall and removed his hat, setting it on the floor. He then slipped under the blankets and pulled Five close, stroking him gently. Five relaxed into the embrace, hiding his face in One's neck. They lay there for a long time before One gently pulled out their souls. Five watched tiredly as they were combined.

"Oh, Five, why didn't you come to us?" his leader asked compassionately when he felt the loneliness, the depression, the outright despair that had plagued Five for a month.

"I didn't want to bother you," Five whispered in embarrassment. "I'm supposed to be the one who doesn't have any problems. I'm the good one."

"You're allowed to have problems, but if you expect us to help, you must come to us and tell us about them," One scolded.

Two shifted and glanced over, yawning. "Is he okay?"

"He's awake. Come and join us."

The doctor did so immediately, laying on the other side of Five and adding his soul to the glowing mass above them. Five relished the feeling of being more complete, and he nuzzled them, trying to show his renewed affection. They nuzzled back, stroking and petting, just being there for their soulmate. Two suddenly began to cry.

"Oh, Five, please don't hide from us like that again," he begged in a quavering voice. "It was so scary to see you laughing like that, like you'd lost your mind. I was afraid you wouldn't come back to us! I was afraid we'd lost you forever, and it was all our faults for not noticing you were hurting so badly!"

Five turned over and held Two. "I wanted to stop laughing," he said softly. "But I couldn't. I've never felt so helpless before. It wasn't even funny."

"No, it wasn't," One said sternly. "It was absolutely terrifying. For all of us. We've seen that kind of behavior with Six, but not to that extent. It was a whole new level of hysteria. You must talk with us, soul bond with us, so this won't happen again. If you need somebody in the middle of the night to talk with or to hold you or even just to sit with, don't you hesitate to come to me. Wake me up, or just get in bed with me. Don't put us through that again. Don't put yourself through that again. Please?"

One never asked anybody for anything like that, and Five felt a burst of warmth flow through him. One loved him! It was such a new idea that he hummed and turned back over to hold him.

"Of course I love you," One said in surprise.

"We all love you," Two added, pecking the back of his head.

Five felt content to revel in the sensations for a while before he stretched.

"By the way, there's another Stitchpunk out there," he said lazily.

The two older creatures stiffened. "There is?"

"Yeah, he likes the machines."

"Do you know where he lives?" Two asked.

"No," Five replied with a yawn. "But he and the Cat Beast are friends…"

"We will have to keep a lookout for him," One murmured. "But for now, rest. We will be here when you wake up.

Five relaxed into the warm embraces, drifting off to a comfortable sleep. He knew that the storm had passed for the moment, but he would have to watch out for more in the future. This time, though, he would let the others help. After all, they did love him.


End file.
